


What I Hold On To

by lotus0kid



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotus0kid/pseuds/lotus0kid
Summary: After crashing on an unknown planet, Snap Wexley finds the absolute last thing he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [visiblemarket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/gifts).



> Happy birthday, visiblemarket! All canon references come from the [Wookiepedia](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page). Sorry for any mistakes!

Snap’s cockpit is full of shrieking alarms and burning lights, none of which present him with any kind of good news.  He curses the New Republic one more time for forcing the Resistance to use their cast-off T-70 X-wings that should’ve been scrapped a decade ago.  Now he’s got no choice but to drop out of hyperspace and hope he’s in a friendly system.  With his luck, he’ll crash directly onto a First Order training yard.

With one last prayer to anyone who might be listening, he disengages the hyperdrive and begins searching for a planet, any planet.  He locks on to the nearest ball of rock and adjusts his thrusters to catch its orbit.  Maybe he can coast the X-wing down if the atmosphere isn’t too thin.

It comes into view, looking to be mostly orange rock smeared with green forest.  His planet analysis systems are offline- for all he knows, the rock could be lava and the forest full of toxins.  Still beats the cold void of space, he decides, and eyeballs an entry point.

It’s bumpy for sure, but eventually yellow-tinged clouds part and Snap is able to pick out a stretch of empty land to bring the X-wing down on.  He grits his teeth and braces for impact.  Soon enough his world becomes the screech of ripping metal and the crunch of broken rock and the desperate plea that nothing catches fire until it all rumbles to a stop.

Snap hasn’t puked since his first year in the corps, but he definitely has to sit and breathe for a while until his stomach settles.  Then he spends some time flexing his fingers and toes, savoring his ability to still do so.  They tingle a bit.  He also hasn’t had an adrenaline kick like this since his first year.  He finds giggles bubbling out of him, even as he disengages the restraints and shoves at the cockpit hatch.  He’s wiping tears from his cheeks by the time he spills out of the X-wing and onto smooth orange ground.

He forces himself to settle, to _think_.  He’s got to contact someone at Lan Barell, let them know he won’t be there to meet the shipment.  And, also, that he’d appreciate it if they could send a rescue crew, if it’s not too much trouble.  And it very well might be, if the guild isn’t feeling charitable.  It was difficult enough to negotiate the arms deal in the first place, or so he heard.  They’ll have very little interest in picking up a stranded pilot they aren’t even supposed to know about.  Snap really might be on his own, and very deeply screwed.

He takes a look around at the shallow valley he and his busted ride currently occupy.  He squints at the hazy yellow sky and wonders what time it is, and what season.  After sunset, he’ll have to see if he can call up any star maps, try to figure out which system he bailed in.  It’s not much of a plan, but it’s enough to get him on his feet and surveying the damage.

Firstly, he sees poor little VA-521 has gone wherever good astromechs go, circuits fried by the power surge that took out pretty much everything else in the X-wing.  The bottom of the starfighter was shredded in the crash, Snap’s probably lucky it didn’t take his legs with it.  It’s a total loss, he figures, and one the Resistance could sorely do without, damn the New Republic.  He pulls off his helmet and thumps it uselessly against the cockpit module, then opens the storage hatch to take stock of his supplies.  He wonders if he’s used up all his luck on a breathable atmosphere, or if he might also come across a clean water source on this mystery planet.

He peers around the valley again, this time pausing as he notices a dark shape moving down the slope toward him.  Snap squints, and considers the blaster stowed in the cockpit.  The shape comes closer, two legs and two arms and one head becoming clear.  Snap hardly believes what he’s seeing, which seems against all odds to be another human being.

“Hello!” calls the fellow member of Snap’s species.

Snap raises a hand, for lack of any idea what else to do.  “Hi!”

“We spotted you coming down, so glad to find you alive,” the man says, a wide smile stretching across the most beautiful face Snap has ever seen, and not just because a minute ago he thought he might never see one again.

“I, uh- yeah, well- uh...”

The smile fades and the man steps right in front of him, hands gently holding his arms.  “Were you hurt?” he asks, accented voice deepening with concern, “Did you lose consciousness at all?  You should sit down.  Here, in the shade.”

“I- I didn’t.  I mean, I- I’m fine, uh...” Snap eloquently explains while letting himself be guided to sit in the shadow of the X-wing by the beautiful man.

“You do seem to be in good shape, but humor me, won’t you?”  Snap will do anything for that smile.  “After I’m done you can truly brag to all your mates that you survived a crash without a scratch.”  The smile gains a slightly awkward, but still beautiful, quirk.  “That is to say, I’m a doctor, so you’ll have proof.”

“Okay.”

The doctor checks his pupils and eye motion.  At one point he takes hold of Snap’s head and tilts it carefully left to right and up and down.  “Any discomfort at all?”

Snap thinks the doctor could slap him across the face and it’d feel like heaven.  “It’s fine.”

Dark eyes fix on him with a chiding look.  “Be honest now, this is important.”

Snap does his best to escape the haze of beauty and focus on himself.  “There’s- kind of a twinge, when it tilts back.”

The doctor nods.  “Of course, I’d be shocked if you didn’t at least have some whiplash...”  He pauses, and his face crumples in disbelief.  “You’ve just experienced a traumatic event and I don’t have the common courtesy to ask your name!  Please, forgive me.  I’m Hutamil M’Soh.  And you are...?”

“Uh, Temmin.  Wexley.”

“Temmin Wexley.  Well, wonderful to meet you, Temmin.  May I call you Temmin?”

 _No, everyone calls me Snap.  Even my flight instructors called me Snap._   Those words line up to be spoken, but what comes out is, “Yeah, of course.  Hutamil.”

Another smile, this one smaller, more warm than bright.  “Okay.  I think I’d be willing to say you weathered the crash of your X-wing with near superhuman fortitude, if you’d prefer to keep a little whiplash our secret.”

“Sure,” Snap replies while blushing like a thirteen-year-old.

“Right then,” Hutamil sits back on his knees, hands bracing on lean thighs, “That’s emergency number one taken care of.  Now we need to figure out how to get you where you were going.  We’ll go back to town, and see if we can contact your base.  Who’s your flight commander?”

 _Crap._   Snap’s flight commander is a known rebel who was drummed out of the New Republic Starfleet five years ago.  And Snap wasn’t given a cover ID for this quick rendezvous on an outer rim world.  He quickly puts on a frown and brings his hand up to his forehead.  “I, uh... I’m not sure...”

A glance through his fingers reveals concern again filling Hutamil’s gorgeous face.  “Really?  Oh, well, that’s all right.  We’ll handle that later.  You need to rest, Temmin.”

Snap would feel guiltier if his impromptu performance didn’t win Hutamil’s gentle hands leading him up and away from the X-wing.  Those hands don’t leave once he’s stable, instead continuing to hold his left forearm and wrap around his back to press against his right side.  Snap sends a prayer of heartfelt gratitude to whatever generous deity must be looking out for him.

As they walk, he says, “So, uh, we know how I got here.  What brought you all the way out to... wait, what planet is this?”

Hutamil chuckles, “Ah, something else I probably should’ve mentioned earlier.  We’re on Primatech, Temmin, in the Odessa system.”

“Odessa?  Damn...”  He’s way out, and on the edges of First Order territory.  Rescue isn’t likely, though it’s hard to be all that disappointed at the moment

“Yes, it’s a far-flung corner of the galaxy,” Hutamil cheerfully agrees, “But I go where I’m sent.  I’m part of the New Republic’s medical aid corps.”

“So you’ve been all over, huh?”

“A few places, yes,” Hutamil replies as his arm shifts a little, sending a tingle through Snap despite the thick material of his flight suit.

“And what’s the medical crisis on Primatech?  You’re not leading me into a plague town, are you?”

“No, no.  Thankfully, my purpose here is preventative.  I’m providing health scans and vaccinations for the Primans.  Seeing if they might impart some knowledge of their own that could help the New Republic.”

“Sounds, uh... interesting.”

“It was getting a bit dull, to be honest.  Until...”

Is Hutamil grinning at him?  Nah, he can’t be.  Snap blinks a few times and when he looks again, Hutamil’s gaze is directed forward.

They’ve crested the slope, and Snap’s eyes are drawn down into a deep gorge.  Along the sheer cliff opposite from them, he makes out orderly rows of window-sized holes.  “This is town?” he ventures.

“Yes.  Totally underground.  Primans have rather sensitive skin.  It would blister before too long if they lived on the surface.  So they’ve gone below.  Wait until you see the inside.  It’s genius, what they’ve accomplished with limited technology.”

They continue walking to the edge of their side of the gorge.  A stairwell is cut from the stone- Hutamil has Snap walk ahead while his hands remain delightfully curled on one shoulder and at his side.  The stairwell leads to a platform with a large round door that appears to be forged from a cloudy brown and silver metal.  Hutamil manipulates a mechanism in the center and soon there’s the sound of gears shifting.  The door splits on a diagonal seam and both parts smoothly roll to either side.

Hutamil is definitely grinning at Snap now.  Academic excitement somehow manages to make his face even prettier.  “See?  Genius.”

Snap’s used to doors opening without being touched, but it’s easy to return his grin and say, “Pretty cool.”

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Hutamil says, reaching out to take Snap’s arm and lead him into the dim space within the cliff.

Snap might have expected the Priman town to consist of chambers and corridors of bare stone.  Instead, it’s all that cloudy metal, everywhere he looks.  Soon they come across their first Priman- a willowy, four-limbed being at least a foot taller than Snap with silvery skin and a long, placid face shaped like an upside-down triangle.  Metallic charms hang from just about everywhere on the being, who makes a sound like bubbles churning in water, to which Hutamil replies, “He crashed his X-wing, but thankfully he’s quite unharmed.  I was going to take him to the infirmary to rest a while.”

More bubbling noises and a head-tilt.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Hutamil exclaims, he turns to Snap, “As you might have guessed, the Primans are highly skilled metallurgists and blacksmiths.  Perhaps they could repair your X-wing.”  His enthusiasm dims until he looks almost bashful, “That is, unless there’s a protocol you’re meant to follow.  I don’t mean to presume.”

“No, no,” Snap rushes to answer, “They’re welcome to try patching it up.  I mean, I’m not sure how else I’m getting off this rock.”

Hutamil’s brow furrows, “Well, I thought we’d put a call in to your base, let them know what happened.  I have access to the HoloNet, if necessary.”

If a report of a downed X-wing flown by Temmin Wexley goes out on the HoloNet, Primatech will be crawling with stormtroopers in a heartbeat.  Snap has to think fast.  He turns fully to Hutamil and takes hold of his hands.  “Yeah, well, um, see... if my superiors find out I crashed, I could get in some real trouble, okay?  X-wings aren’t cheap.  If your buddies can fix it, that would go a long way to getting me back into their good graces.  Trust me.  Please?”

Hutamil seems a little stunned by his appeal.  The heat between their palms is almost unbearable.  “Um, I suppose... if you’re sure...”

“I am.  And I can contact my people.  You don’t have to bother.”  Maybe he can work out a coded message to throw up on the HoloNet, something Poe or Karé will recognize.  He doesn’t want the rest of Black Squadron to think he got himself caught or worse, but he also doesn’t want the First Order raining hell on this nice little community either.  Hutamil would be so upset.

“All right then.  But for now you’ll rest,” Hutamil commands, putting on a wonderful show of stern professionalism.

“You got it, doc,” Snap replies with a grin, “Lead on.”

“Very well.  Plaude, why don’t you get your team together and Temmin can take you to the crash site after nightfall?”

Plaude burbles and nods and sways off down the corridor, metal charms jingling as they go.

“Thank you!” Snap calls after their retreating back, “Nice of them to help me out, just for nothing like that.”

Hutamil blinks at him.  “Why wouldn’t they want to help you?”

He shrugs, “Pick a reason.  I guess I’ll just have to owe them one.”

“Yes,” Hutamil murmurs, and they continue on their route.

As they walk Snap notices the soaring ceilings in every hallway and room, built to accommodate the statuesque Primans.  Not one of them measures less than six feet, except for the children dashing around here and there.  And they all have a personal collection of metal charms adorning them.  Metal seems to be the foundation of their society.  Anything that’s made appears to be made of metal, or incorporate it somehow.

The infirmary isn’t far below the surface.  Large polished discs angled up to tunnels in the ceiling reflect a good amount of daylight into the room, and there are several Republic-issue lanterns.  Snap still feels a bit like a rabbit in a warren, which isn’t entirely unpleasant.  It gives him strange and sudden fantasies of curling up with Hutamil in a little underground nest- these he shakes off as quickly as possible.  He needs to keep his wits about him if he wants to keep his cover intact.

Hutamil waves Snap to one of the very long beds in the infirmary while he bends over an array of electronics.  Snap strips off his gloves, boots, and control pack, then stretches out on the cool, plush mattress, just in time for the last of his adrenaline to drain away.  In minutes he’s nodding off to the quiet sound of Hutamil at work and the low vibration of a thousand people walking on metal.


	2. Chapter 2

Is there a hand on Snap’s cheek?  He thinks he hears a soft voice saying, “Temmin?”

When Snap opens his eyes, Hutamil’s hand is on his shoulder.  His face is almost ethereal in the glow of the lanterns.  It seems the sun has set, as the reflecting disks are dark.  “What time is it?” Snap asks blearily.

“A little after sundown.  How do you feel?  Plaude has come with the team to retrieve your X-wing, but if you’d rather sleep, that’s perfectly fine.  I’ll just let them know.”

“No, I’ll- I’ll go.  We don’t need the wreck settling more than it already has.”

“I’m sure you’re right.  Get your boots on then.”

Seeing Hutamil pull on a jacket as well, Snap almost wants to tell him he doesn’t have to come, if he’s busy.  He’s greedy for Hutamil’s company even as he’s desperate not to be a nuisance.  It’s an annoying catch-22.  Thankfully Hutamil doesn’t seem to mind joining Snap on his way out of the infirmary and among a group of six Primans.

“Hey, guys, thanks for helping out.  I appreciate it,” Snap tells them.  He gets a couple of nods, but the others don’t seem to have understood.

One Snap recognizes as Plaude turns to their friends and says something.  There are more nods and the group begins walking out of town.  Once outside, Snap’s breath catches as he sees three large moons hanging in the sky in a gently curved line, pouring silvery blue light on the landscape.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” Hutamil asks, walking a bit closer than Snap expected him to.  “When they align the town will hold a festival.  Should be fun.”

“Maybe... maybe I’ll get to stick around until then,” Snap hears himself remark.

Hutamil’s mouth opens and shuts a few times around a small smile.  Eventually, he replies, “Maybe.”

The Primans come to stand on opposite sides of a large, flat sled balanced on springy bands of metal. Together they push it into a glide over the rock.  After a little while, they arrive at the crash site.  Snap lets out a sigh at the sad hulk of his starfighter.  The Primans can try all they like to fix it, he thinks, but it’s almost definitely a lost cause.  Which means he’ll almost definitely get to attend the lunar alignment festival, but that’s definitely not important right now.

The salvage team encircles the X-wing, clearly discussing in low burbles if it’s even possible to move it.  Snap steps forward to say, just in case anyone is listening, “Yeah, so, the landing gear’s totally shredded, obviously.  Good thing I had the S-foils locked or the lower ones would definitely be gone.  Nothing exploded, so I’m hoping the power generator isn’t damaged.  Still, the electronics are dead.  But, y’know, maybe if we get it back to town, I could fix it somehow.”

If he was in his old junk shop back on Akiva, maybe he could dig up enough bits and pieces to cobble together whatever’s damaged in the X-wing.  He’ll just have to see what Primatech  can offer as replacement parts, if the Primans can understand what those are.  Maybe Hutamil has some literature they can use.  Snap casts a glance at him, and gets an encouraging look.  A metallic groan pulls his attention back to the X-wing, where he sees the Primans squatted down on their long legs, gripping equidistant parts of the starfighter and lifting it off the ground without a single grunt of effort.

“Whoa, okay,” Snap exclaims, stumbling backwards a few steps.

“Yes, the Primans might look somewhat delicate,” Hutamil says, “But they aren’t in fact lacking in brute strength.”

The team move as one to carry the X-wing to the sled and gently set it down.  Snap still whimpers a bit as he catches sight of the ragged underside.

“There, there,” Hutamil soothes, patting between Snap’s shoulder blades, “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”

Of course he’s only joking, but it helps bring a smile to Snap’s face nonetheless.  Together they pick over the site with the Primans, gathering any remaining debris.  Eventually all that’s left is a long furrow carved in the rock littered with glittering bits of shrapnel.

It’s a slower journey back to town as everyone pushes the newly burdened sled.  Snap distracts himself from tired muscles by watching blue moonlight play over Hutamil’s black curls.

They take the X-wing to a different part of town- a huge chamber that seems to be a common-use workshop.  The starfighter gets its own little corner among the other projects, suspended on chains so the bottom is accessible.  Plaude’s team will begin their attempt at repairs later, for now Snap takes his supplies and possessions out of the storage compartments and goes with Hutamil to a room near the infirmary that appears to be his personal quarters.

“I had a colleague with me, but she had to leave.  Family emergency.  You can have her bed, if you like.  Her rations are in the crate at the end there, if you’re hungry.  The Primans eat fish mostly, they catch them from an underground lake.  We’re welcome to have some, but the rest of our nutrition we must provide for ourselves.  The rations are fairly good.  Well, nothing you aren’t used to, anyway.  I mean, of course you-”

“Hutamil?”

He blinks.  “Uh, yes?”

“I’m pretty tired.  I think I’ll just change and go to bed.  Do you have more work to do?”

“Yes, no, well- chores, to do, I have them.  A few.  I’ll just...”  He jabs a thumb over his shoulder and wanders away.

Snap stares after him, wondering why he seemed almost flustered.  Probably doesn’t like sharing space.  Snap tries to ignore a twinge of guilt as he takes out his sleeping shirt.  He brought two sets of clothes just in case- it looks like he’s going to get very familiar with the Primans’ laundry facilities since there’s no way he’ll fit into clothes made for Hutamil’s lean frame.  With nothing left to do, Snap climbs into his new bed, grimacing at a sullen ache from his sore neck.  He stares at the metal ceiling above him for a while, pondering the wild unpredictability of life until he drifts off.  At some point he hears movement near his bed, and maybe the warmth of a hand hovering near his cheek.  It leaves, and Snap is disappointed before deeper sleep claims him.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, while Hutamil sees to his first patients, Snap sits down at the HoloNet station in their quarters and carefully crafts a message to the Resistance.  He posts an innocuous message using an old alias about being annoyed his trip to Shulell City was delayed, but that he’s making lots of new friends while he waits.  With luck, the Resistance will find the message and trace it to Primatech.  Seeing this world isn’t occupied by the First Order, they’ll understand not to draw attention with a big rescue mission.  If Snap can’t repair the X-wing’s electronics, he’ll probably have to send another message.  For now, he chooses to believe his friends know he’s alive and uncaptured.

With that done, he allows himself to relax a little.  Plaude’s team is apparently eager for the challenge of patching the X-wing’s ruined underside.  Snap mostly just stands back and watches while they work.  Otherwise, he keeps himself occupied by happily acting as Hutamil’s go-for.  The days are full of treating Priman sniffles and administering rounds of vaccinations.  More than once Snap finds himself simply gazing at Hutamil as he interacts with patients.  Even though he often needs to make use of his interpreter Mylar, he still manages to radiate gentle empathy that puts everyone at ease.  Snap feels privileged to witness it.

And it makes him all the more startled one evening when Hutamil shoves himself away from the HoloNet station and barks out a sharp, “Fuck!”

“Whoa, what’s the matter?”

Hutamil blows out a breath and glares at the floor, muttering, “Sorry, it’s...  I’ve been called to another town.  There’s been an outbreak of Ilumian fever, they need help.”

Ilum is a First Order stronghold, a blatant perversion of its history as a Jedi holy site.  Of course Snap can’t ask if Hutamil knows that, if only because he’s already up and shoving clothes into a bag.  Snap focuses on a more important question, “How long will you be gone?”

“As long as necessary,” Hutamil replies without looking up.  Stormy anger has filled him that Snap doesn’t dare to interpret.

“Okay well, good luck, buddy.  Stay safe.”

For some reason, that makes Hutamil stop and look at him.  “Yes.  I, ah...  You’ll be all right here.  Plaude and Mylar will help if you need anything.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll try not to be long.”

“Do what you gotta do.  It’s your job, right?”

He nods, “Yes.”

“You’re good at your job.  I can tell.”

Hutamil’s gaze drops, a tiny smile twitching onto his lips.  “Right, well, I have to go.  Goodbye.”

He slings the bag’s strap over his shoulder and strides out of their quarters.  Snap sighs, already knowing he won’t sleep well without Hutamil’s quiet presence in the bed across from his.  He has got a truly pathetic crush on the good doctor who doesn’t know who he really is.

Snap is just about ready to spend the next day relaxing, and definitely _not_ wallowing in lovelorn loneliness.  However, Plaude arrives and leads him to the workshop, where he sees the X-wing outfitted with a new bottom plate of cloudy metal.  The starfighter remains suspended from the ceiling, as the landing gear is a fading memory.  Snap inspects the patch inside and out, even going so far as to sit in the pilot’s seat and stomp his feet as hard as he can.

“Okay, seems like it’s welded pretty tight,” he concludes, “If I can get the systems up, I guess we’ll see if the seal is strong enough to break atmo.”

Plaude gives him a nod.  Snap and Hutamil have done their best to communicate how the electronics in the X-wing work, but, aside from Plaude’s mostly academic knowledge of electricity as a concept, Snap doesn’t know exactly what he’ll need or if anything on this planet can replace it.  Well, now is the time to find out.  Probably for the best Hutamil isn’t here to distract Snap with his beauty.  But then, it’s not as if he isn’t distracted worrying if Hutamil is okay.  Nonetheless, Snap has his mission, even if it’s one he’s not very eager to complete.

He gets brief messages from Hutamil over the HoloNet.  He’s fine.  He’s working.  How is Snap?  Fine.  Working.  Snap fantasizes about exchanging messages full of inside jokes and stories from their respective pasts and plans for the future.  But, honestly, he needs to disengage.  He’s actually making progress on fixing the electronics.  Soon it will be time to go back.  Back to the Resistance.  Back to fear.  Back to silent, seething war.

Hutamil returns late one night.  Snap rolls over at the sound of him trudging to his bed and sitting down with a weary sigh.  Snap turns on a lantern, and Hutamil winces at the light even as he says, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.  I’m...  It’s good you’re back.”

Hutamil rubs his eyes.  “Yeah.”

“You get the outbreak under control?  I mean, I guess you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”

“It’s contained.  Those who can recover will, those who can’t...”  Hutamil’s gaze goes unfocused, and his head drops into his hands.

Before Snap can think, he’s climbed out of bed and sat next to Hutamil, laying a hand on his back.  “Hey, are you okay?”

Hutamil’s head rises so he can direct a furious glare at the floor.  “It shouldn’t have happened,” he grinds out, “Ilumian fever has no business appearing on Primatech.  But it’s here.  And it will come back.”  He lets out another, gustier sigh.  “My purpose here isn’t just ordinary medical aid.  The vaccinations I administer are specifically chosen.  Do you know why?”

Snap guessed a long time ago, but he responds anyway, “Tell me.”

“To clean up after the First fucking Order,” he snarls, “Their troops go out on their raiding parties, right?  And they leave death, destruction, and disease in their path.  And then the New Republic sends me out to at least deal with the last of those.  So I do my job and I do it well, which means the Galactic Senate gets to declare that the First Order isn’t all that bad really, how many people have they actually hurt?  Hardly any, right?  It’s not a bloody _problem_ or anything.”  He shoves himself backwards until he hits the wall behind them.  Glowering at nothing, he says, “I’m sorry.  I’m sure you don’t need to listen to me complain about all this.  It’s just... They don’t _care_ , neither side.  But what can I do?  Let half the Primans die, just to make a point?  I’d be even worse than them.”

Snap shifts until he leans on the wall too.  “There are people who care,” he murmurs, “I swear there are people out there...  There are people right here.  I...  I’m with the Resistance.”

He’s never flat-out told anyone that before.  He doesn’t know what to expect.  Hutamil’s eyes jump to him, piercing and unreadable.  “Yes, I... I suspected as much.  Nice to know for sure.”

Snap throws up his hands.  “Yeah, yeah, big surprise, right?  It was the X-wing, wasn’t it?”

“It’s so _old_.”

“I know!  It’s the best we can get.”

“It nearly killed you.”

“I’m very well aware of that, thank you.  But... we care.  We’re trying.  It’s hard and it’s dangerous, but we won’t quit.  We will stop the First Order.”

Hutamil swallows, and sits up a bit, bringing his face close enough for Snap to fall into his eyes.  “You will?”

There was a time long ago when Snap had nearly as much contempt for the Rebellion as for the Empire.  Maybe it makes him a bad person, but he needs more than the hope of justice and glory to keep him in this brand new mess.  He needs people to fight for.  He has his mother, and he has Black Squadron.  And now he has Hutamil, and the Primans.  “Yes.  I promise.”

Hutamil blinks a few times, nods.  “Right.  Well.  I suppose it’s more important than ever then, to get your X-wing repaired and- and send you on your way.”

Snap’s heart sinks, but it’s not like Hutamil is wrong.  “Pretty much, yeah.”

“I need to rest.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Snap hurries to clamber off Hutamil’s bed and return to his own.  He faces the wall while Hutamil changes clothes, and turns off the lantern as soon as he’s settled.

In the pure black of their underground quarters, Hutamil says, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”


	4. Chapter 4

There’s a strange tension between Snap and Hutamil after that.  Snap figures it can’t be fun for Hutamil to carry the secret of his true allegiance.  He keeps his distance, which is the only sensible thing to do.  He spends every spare moment in the X-wing, elbows-deep in wires and circuits, stolidly reminding himself of where he’s supposed to be.

One day, he flips a switch, and the X-wing’s systems flicker on.  “Yes!” he cries, absorbing every word of the swiftly scrolling diagnostic information.  He shuts it all down as soon as it’s done.  One yellow light remains on, signaling that the power generator is charging.  The X-wing can’t take off now, but it probably could by tonight.

Tonight, which happens to be the lunar alignment festival.  Snap has pushed that to the back of his mind, forcing himself to focus on completing his repairs and letting life here get back to normal.  He made a promise, after all.

But he can’t just blast off the second the generator’s charged.  He still needs to check the bottom plate’s seal.  Hutamil would be even more annoyed if it cracked when he hit atmo and the X-wing crumpled and plummeted back to the ground, scattering parts of it and parts of Snap all over the place.  He has to stay, at least for one more night.

With that decided, he leaves the X-wing to charge, and gets ready for a party.  That mostly means laundering his other set of clothes.  Both sets are becoming fairly worn out from constant washing.  After hanging them up to dry in the geothermal vent pipes, Snap goes to the bathing chambers to get himself laundered.  Primans don’t mind a cold shower, which was disappointing at first, but a little heat in Snap’s veins he can’t quite get rid of makes the cool water feel good running over his skin.

Once he’s retrieved his clothes from the vent pipes and gotten dressed in the bathing chamber, he notices people streaming to the surface.  He follows them, smiling at the sound of excited burbles and jingling charms.  Up above, Snap immediately turns his gaze to the sky to see the three moons in a line directly overhead.  Some trick of the atmosphere gives them all faint haloes of pale gold.

“Wow,” Snap breathes.

He spots movement in his peripheral vision.  Hutamil has stepped up beside him, and quietly remarks, “Like I said before, lovely.”

The moons aren’t the only lovely things out tonight.  Hutamil has his curls half pulled back, generously allowing all of his beautiful face to be seen from every angle.  He tends to dress for comfort and utility, and tonight isn’t much different.  But his clothes seem a bit sleeker, a bit more fitted.  He looks fantastic.  If Snap could split his time tonight looking at the moons and looking at Hutamil, he could die happy.

However, cruel fate forces him to kill the moment.  “So, uh, I got the electronics to start today.”

Hutamil’s gaze whips from the moons to Snap.  “What?”

He lets out an awkward laugh and an gives an even more awkward shrug.  “Yeah, I honestly didn’t have much hope either.  The power generator is charging now.  I can check the seal tomorrow.  Probably leave then, if everything goes okay.”

“Oh, right, I see.”  Hutamil’s mouth twists into a smile.  “That’s great!  Good- good job.”

“Thanks,” Snap replies, feeling exactly no pleasure at the compliment.

Around them, the Primans set up tables with bowls and trays of mostly fish-based food.  Others carry objects that appear to be similar to steel drums and flutes.  They begin to play a tune that draws the other Primans to stop their conversations and listen.  Three Primans festooned with charms stand before the musicians, who begin a new song.  The three begin a dance that’s like a musical round but with movement, each repeating the dancer before but ten steps behind.  The dance begins again with the dancers five steps behind each other, then one step behind.  The dance ends with all three coming into a line beneath the moons- one dancer with their arms raised and head thrown back, one with their head bowed over crossed arms, and one kneeling with their palms touching.  The audience of Primans shake their arms in jingling applause.  Snap and Hutamil clap.

Matthinder, one of the town leaders, gives a speech then.  Snap doesn’t understand much of it, because of Hutamil’s warm breath and clean scent as he leans close to translate.  Something about moons, and new life, and new opportunities.  After another round of applause, Matthinder bows to the audience and the musicians, and the latter begin playing again.

As a number of Primans pair off, Snap feels a hand sneak into his.  “Would you care to dance?” Hutamil asks, with an ironic quirk at the corner of his lips.

“Uh, sure,” Snap suavely replies.

The other couples seem to do their own versions of the earlier dance, separately circling each other until they come together for an aligned pose.  Snap has no idea how to do that, so he simply curls an arm around Hutamil and draws him close, swaying to the music’s beat.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs.

Hutamil’s hand presses into the small of his back.  “Perfectly.”

Snap’s eyes slip shut as he tries his hardest to cement this moment in his memory.  He’ll need it, when he’s on his next recon mission, or when he’s bunking down with twenty other Resistance fighters in a cramped basement somewhere, or when he sees footage of the latest First Order atrocity.  But that’s for later.  For now he pushes it all away and lets his cheek rest against Hutamil’s hair.  None of it belongs here.  He doesn’t have to hold on to it, not while Hutamil is in his arms.

The song comes to an end, and their gentle sway slows to a stop, but neither of them is interested in letting go.  Hutamil moves back, but only far enough to catch Snap’s gaze.  His hand leaves Snap’s back and rises to his cheek, thumb stroking over his beard.  Small smiles appear on both of their faces.  It’s more like gravity than action that draws them closer until their lips meet.  _Yes_ , something in Snap’s brain sighs, and he tilts his head for another, firmer kiss.  Hutamil’s hand curls around the back of his neck and his lips part for another, deeper kiss.  Heat rolls through Snap and he barely manages to hold in a moan as he sharply remembers they are currently outside, surrounded by just about the entire town.

Hutamil seems to recall this as well a second later and pulls away.  He goes stiff and lets out a nearly silent, “Oh, uh...”

Snap’s wincing even before he opens his eyes and discovers he and Hutamil are the focus of several curious gazes.  “Primans aren’t the kissing kind, huh?” he inquires.

“No.  They lay eggs, which are stored until a prearranged time of fertilization.  It’s all very dignified.”

“No kidding.”

“Would you like to come with me right now to a place that isn’t here?”

“Yes.”

Hand-in-hand, they trot away from the festival and back into town below.  When they come to an unoccupied corridor, Snap can’t resist tugging Hutamil back into his arms for another lingering kiss.

“Primans don’t know what they’re missing,” he murmurs.

“It’s a pity,” Hutamil concurs, “Come on.”

They take off again, and don’t stop until they’re stumbling into their quarters.

“You- you are leaving tomorrow,” Hutamil mumbles against Snap’s lips.

“If the seal holds, I guess I have to.”  He doesn’t want to think about it.  He wants to think about getting Hutamil’s shirt off.

“Right.”  Hutamil’s arms twine around Snap’s shoulders, and he drags him to his bed, where they can both stop thinking for a while, and simply feel.  It’ll all be gone tomorrow.  Just a very pleasant memory to hold on to.  In this life, it’s more than most people get.


	5. Chapter 5

Snap wakes, and pretends with all his might that he hasn’t.  It doesn’t have to end right now.  There’s still a moment or two left where he can be safe and warm, curled around Hutamil like it’s what he was made to do.

He really needs to get a grip.  This isn’t a melodrama off the Coruscant Opera House stage.  They’re just two people who met at the right place at the right time.  And now that place and time are diverging.  And that’s just how it goes.  It’s fine.

Hutamil sighs and rolls over, rubbing his prickly cheek against Snap’s chest.  _Oh fuck_ , Snap thinks as his heart seems to jump and swell and melt all at once.  He has to get up.  He has to get dressed and pack.  He has to go to the X-wing, fire up the engine, and fly far, far away.  Those are, in order, the very last things he wants to do.

The lantern clicks at its set alarm time, and slowly fills their room with light.  Within seconds, Hutamil frowns and lifts his head.  “Oh, is it morning?”

“According to the lantern,” Snap replies bleakly.

“Yes, okay,” Hutamil mutters while pushing himself up, robbing Snap of his warmth, “So, uh, breakfast first, or...?”

Or is he going to sprint directly for the X-wing?  “Yeah, breakfast.”

Hutamil holds the covers open, allowing Snap to slide out and walk over to sit at the end of his freezing cold bed.  He opens the crate and digs around for a ration bar.  Hutamil glances over while on his own quest for sustenance.  “You can take the rest with you, if you want.  They’ll only go to waste here.”

“I might take a few.  Thanks.”  He’s become somewhat partial to the green ones.

They gnaw at their respective bars in silence, because what else is there to say?  Nothing that makes a bit of difference.

No.  Damn it, he has to say something.  “Uh, Hutamil?”

“Yes?”

 _Come with me, stay with me, we’ll work it out somehow, just give us a chance._   These desperate words somehow manage to sound totally different as they leave his mouth, “Y’know, you’re a great doctor.  The Resistance... we’ve got a lot of people who could use your help.  I mean, yeah, it’s dangerous, and uncomfortable, and you have to lie almost all the time...  But, you wouldn’t have to feel like you’re hiding the New Republic’s dirty secrets anymore.”

Hutamil blinks at him, brow furrowing.  “I... I appreciate the offer, but there’s still a lot for me to do here.”

Yes.  Right.  Exactly.  Snap hears him.  It was the right place at the right time.  He needs to stop holding on to something Hutamil has already let go of.  Snap gulps the last of his ration bar and says, “Okay, well, I’m gonna shower, and then, uh, pack I guess.”

“Okay.”

Every minute feels like an hour, but eventually Snap finds himself in the X-wing’s cockpit, after the starfighter has been ferried to the surface by Plaude and their team.  Hutamil watches with the Primans, who ward off the sunshine using long coats with large hoods, as Snap starts the engine and engages the pressurization mechanisms.  The diagnostics read a solid seal, and he tells himself he’s glad.  He gives a thumbs-up to his audience, not letting his gaze linger on Hutamil’s reaction.  He fires the thrusters, and gingerly rises into the air.  No warning lights, no alarms- which is definitely good.

The X-wing climbs, quickly coming level with the yellow-tinged clouds.  Hutamil and the Primans have vanished into the landscape.  The seal still holds as he rises further, above the clouds, where the sky darkens and the stars emerge.  Still no cracks, no problems.  He’s broken atmo.  There’s nothing left to do but program his flight path, and enter hyperdrive.

“Goodbye,” Snap says to no one, and then he’s gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Snap isn’t a writer.  He has no idea how to draft a scientific treatise on the Priman metal, which apparently handles heat, friction, vibration, electricity, and magnetic fields better than anything anyone in the Resistance has ever seen.  If any other kind of metal was used, Snap’s been told he would’ve died on take-off.  So, that’s nice, he guesses.  On top of that, everyone keeps asking how he rewired his electronics and what he used to replace the parts that got fried.  Snap almost doesn’t want to answer, in case a bunch of parts-hungry pilots fall upon the ecology of Primatech and strip it bare.

He wants another mission, but everyone has also seemed to decide he’s very fragile after being stranded so close to First Order territory with a downed X-wing and no hope of rescue.  No one even wants to hear about the lunar alignment festival.

With a sigh, he abandons his homework assignment yet again and goes in search of caf.  At least they’ve put him up in some decent digs while he pecks at a keyboard.  Minister Mooren continues to prove he’s a worthy ally of the Resistance, footing the bill on a well-supplied camp not too far away from his colony on Danoor.

In the mess tent, Snap jabs at the buttons on the caf processor until it spits out a cup.  He wanders over to a table and drops into a seat.  He’s not one sip in before some idiot walks in behind him, saying, “Snap?”

“Yeah, what- oh.”  Snap rounds on the intruder, only to find Hutamil’s beautiful face looking back at him.

He smiles, “Ah, good, I was starting to worry there was more than one Wexley in the Resistance.”  The smile becomes a curious squint.  “Snap?”

“Nickname.”

“Clearly.  I’m just wondering why you never mentioned it, if barely anyone here has ever even heard the name ‘Temmin’ before.”

Snap shakes his head with a half-shrug.  “I dunno.  Just didn’t seem important, I guess.”  Now he gets in his own curious squint.  “What are you doing here?  Is everything okay on Primatech?”

“Yes, at least it was when I left.  My replacement should’ve arrived by now.  Hopefully they’re not being worked too hard.”

“Replacement?”

“That’s right, as in someone to take over while I’m gone.”

Snap smirks, “You told your bosses you were dropping out to join the Resistance?”

“I told them I was taking a leave of absence, which I’d not done in over five years,” Hutamil says primly, “They didn’t ask what I would be doing with my time, so I didn’t tell them.”

Snap gets up from his chair and takes a few steps closer.  “So, I guess it’s my job to ask then.  What are you planning to do with your leave of absence?”

Hutamil stares at him for a frozen moment.  Then he walks forward, not stopping until his arms are banded around Snap.  “I thought we could start with this,” he whispers, cheek pressed against his chest.

Snap’s arms easily find comfortable places around Hutamil’s torso.  He lets out a breath he might have been holding since he left Primatech, and his chin rests on Hutamil’s shoulder.  Snap squeezes him as tight as he dares, and says, “I think you’re right.”


End file.
